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The Winding Clock
by   Copper

A life given to me,
  sprung with glories 
    and triumphs . . . 
      and love.

So be it fate 
  that my love 
    should not be near.

Destiny chooses for me,
  winding it's crooked fingers 
    inside my heart.

(Not even gentleman enough 
  to stop and wish me 
    a good day)
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Poem ID: 7855   Poem Posted: 9/29/1998
Viewed: 13700  Voted On: 221  E-mailed: 19  Commented On: 0
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Rose and Rhyme Sweets Message in a Bottle Flowers

Copyright , 1998, Copper  all rights reserved by the author.
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